


Holding Onto Nothing

by wheninriverdale



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, although it probably wont happen, because its a real thing, bughead - Freeform, bughead fanfiction, can ghosts have sex because im not sure i can write a bughead fic without smut, ghost stories are fun, susie q feels, watch out for ghost sex, woohoo the 90s are back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 00:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12544824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheninriverdale/pseuds/wheninriverdale
Summary: One late night while Jughead’s working in the town library he’s putting away an old worn out book when he sees the glinting of silver sticking out between torn pages. Tucked away inside he finds an old charm bracelet. Perplexed by its intrigue Jughead brings it home with him. The next day he sees this girl - almost as if from a dream - come into his life. Only its not a dream and she’s not a figure of his imagination, but an actual ghost in search of a way to move on to the afterlife and she needs Jughead’s help. Can Jughead help solve the mystery of Elizabeth Cooper’s death, or will he end up facing the same fate as her own?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song in the story: I'll Walk Alone by Dinah Shore

It was another late night at the library, as Jughead spent his time organizing the books and returning them to their rightful places on the shelves. The day had been chaotic and it seemed like at one point or another everyone from town had set foot in the palace of books. Jughead didn’t mind the busyness he just hated the mess that he had to clean up after.

Before turning down the next aisle of fiction, Jughead pulled the Walkman from his pocket and switched over to the next song on the CD he was playing. He nodded his head along to the beginning chords and made his way down the next aisle of fiction, pausing to place a morbidly worn and weathered copy of _The Great Gatsby_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald on the shelf. If he hadn’t noticed the glint of silver that seemingly poked out from within the pages, he would have never thought anything of the old book itself.

“Hmm…interesting.” Jughead whispered to himself in the now empty library. Retrieving the book back from the shelf he propped it open to reveal a silver charm bracelet.

He fell back towards a table between the two aisles and settled into one of the wooden chairs. Setting the bracelet on the hardwood surface, Jughead was able to examine the piece of jewelry a little more clearly. The bracelet had a number of charms including a ballerina dancer, an airplane with a spinning propeller, a compass and an hourglass among plenty of others. The trinkets were small, barely larger than the size of his fingernails, but the detail in each piece left Jughead taken away by the craftsmanship that went into each and every charm. Figuring that whoever the bracelet had belonged to was probably missing it, Jughead headed back to the front desk to check the records of who had returned a copy of _The Great Gatsby_ earlier that afternoon.

As Jughead rifled through the place cards, he had no luck. There was no copy of the book checked out or returned within the last week. Perplexed, Jughead thumbed his way through the pages, noticing a set of initials, _E. C.,_ penned into the top right corner of the title page. Underneath the name was a date marked October 12, 1944.

“What the-“ Jughead whispered again. Tearing his attention from the book, he looked to the calendar on the wall behind him. “Strange. Very strange.” He said, wondering what the odds were that he’d find this book exactly 50 years later, on the anniversary of the date scribbled on the yellowing page.

Jughead pocketed both the charm bracelet and the book and decided to call it a night. No doubt the return cart full of books would be right where he’d left it the next morning, Jughead’s stomach was churning, and it wasn’t just because he was hungry.

Making sure to shut off all the lights, Jughead locked up shop for the night and headed towards the only place still open in town – Pop Tate’s Choc’late shop.

“Good Evening Jughead,” Pop greeted him at the counter, throwing the rag he had in his hand over his shoulder and propping his elbows on the linoleum counter between them.

“Hey Pop, how’s it going?” Jughead glanced around him. The diner was almost deserted except for the few exceptional booths full of straggling teens or truck drivers on a quick rest stop before passing on through their sleepy little town.

Pop filled a glass with Coca-Cola, knowing it was Jughead’s favorite before meandering his way back into the kitchen and turning the fryer on high. “Oh you know, just trying to stay busy. Not many people come by after dark, except for the usual few.” Jughead swore Pop had a small twinkle in his eye when he said the last few words.

“Glad I can come and help cancel out the overhead costs of running this place 24 hours a day.” Jughead smirked and took a sip of his pop. The sweet liquid tickled his taste buds and his stomach grumbled in happy delight. It’d been almost three hours since he ate dinner and Jughead was practically ravenous.

Pop laughed as a he slapped a patty down onto the grill. “Thanks for your support Jug. You’re here a little earlier than usual. Bad day at the library?”

Jughead shrugged and removed his lips from the plastic straw. “Not bad, just a bit busier than usual.” With his mind returning back to the book in his pocket, Jughead chose to risk it and ask Pop if he recognized the initials labeled inside the cover. After all, Pop was the heart and soul of Riverdale, maybe there was a chance he would know.

“Hey Pop, do you know of anyone with the initials E. C.? I found a book today that’s not property of the library, and those initial are the only sort of significance I could find inside it.” Jughead decided it was best to leave the bracelet out of the discussion. He didn’t know what it was, but a strange warmth radiated from the small charms, and Jughead wasn’t ready to let his little finding out in the open just yet.

Jughead heard a patty flip from the kitchen, recognizing the familiar sizzle of the juices soaking up the greasy residue. His stomach overturned, he was so hungry. “Male or female?” Pop asked.

“I’m thinking a female, by the look of the writing.”

A few moments later, Pop returned from the kitchen with a cheeseburger and a basket of fries, sliding the plate in front of Jughead. “Don’t think I can be of much help there, sorry Jughead. You work at the library, take a look through the town archives and see if anything pops out at you. That may be a start.”

Already chewing on a mouthful of savory bun, cheese, and beef Jughead just nodded, wondering why he didn’t think of that in the first place. Once he was able to swallow, Jughead wiped his mouth on this sleeve and thanked Pop for the idea. “You’re a genius Pop.”

Pop just chuckled and returned to wiping off the counter. “I wouldn’t go that far Jughead.” He said.

“Ok maybe not, but definitely a culinary genius. This food is to die for.”

“Thanks Jughead.” Pop said and turned his back, allowing Jughead to enjoy his second dinner in peace.

Once Jughead was finished he left his money on the counter along with a generous tip and bid goodbye to Pop, promising to see him the following evening after another long day of dusty shelves and the Dewey Decimal System.

Jughead didn’t notice the rain that had started to fall while he had sat in Pop’s. He transferred the book from the back pocket of his jeans to the inside breast pocket of his jacket and held the jean fabric to him a little tighter as he made his way home in the rain. He was so rattled from his discoveries today that he was oblivious to the fact the rain was only falling around him and nowhere else. As if he had his own little rain cloud to follow him home.

Jughead stepped over the threshold into his tiny one bedroom apartment. Shaking like a dog from the cold and the rain outside, he placed his old wool beanie on the table near the door, kicked off his combat boots and shrugged out of his sopping jean jacket making sure to grab the book from its pocket. A few steps later Jughead fell into the hole that was his living room couch and reached for the lamp beside it, turning on the light and wrapping a crocheted blanket around his shoulders. From his pocket he pulled out the bracelet, twirling the silver chain around his fingers absentmindedly.

After further examination of the jewelry, he noticed a singular charm inscribed with the same initials from the book. The letters E. C. were surrounded by a heart. "E. C.," He repeated to himself, trying to think of possible names it could be.

Maybe Edith, Eleanor or Eloise? Or perhaps Emily, Emma or Esther? His curiosity was beginning to get the better of him, and he even considered sneaking back into the library to look up old editorials from the year dated in the book. There had to be something about E. C. somewhere. 

Giving up for the night, Jughead decided it was probably a good idea to turn in and head to bed.

◊◊◊

The next morning came after a dead, dreamless sleep. Wiping the weariness from his eyes, Jughead rolled over in bed groggily before adjusting to the world around him. He heard music. Soft and low, maybe from the mid-fifties he guessed – he wasn’t sure. He assumed it was his old neighbor Mr. Clayborn who lived across the hall, but the more he listened he could’ve sworn it was coming from just outside his bedroom door.

_'If you call I'll hear you, no matter how far  
       Just close your eyes and I'll be there’_

Jughead stepped out of bed and made his way carefully towards the door. The music was eerie and slow, reminding him of the old Disney movie Peter Pan. The oohs and the ahhs from the background singers gave off a “ _The Second Star to the Right_ ” sort of vibe. Itching with curiosity Jughead walked out into the living room, his heart momentarily stopping at the sight before him.

Standing there, swaying to the music playing from his boom box was a strikingly beautiful blonde girl. She wore a high collared pale pink sweater and a deep white ankle length skirt to match. Panic stricken, Jughead didn’t know what to do.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, taking another step into the room he grabbed the first item he could reach to defend himself in case the girl may have been dangerous. All he had to protect himself was the TV antenna.

The girl continued to dance along to the music as if he weren’t there standing behind her, talking to her back. The music played on still.

_'Please walk alone and send your love and your kisses to guide me  
       Till you're walking beside me, I'll walk alone’_

“Hello? Hey girly!” The blonde jumped and spun around to face Jughead. She gave him a confused look. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The girl carefully tiptoed a few steps toward him, closing the space between them. There she stood in front of his face, waving her hand just so, as if she were about to ask him how many fingers she was holding up.

Jughead swatted her hand away and glared at her. “Ever heard of personal space? Who. The hell. Are you?” he spat, still clutching the antenna in his right hand beside his hip, waiting and ready if he needed to strike at any moment.

The girl hopped back in fright, grasping her hand to her chest. “You can see me?” She asked, biting her lip fearfully.

“Uh yeah I can. What are you doing in my living room?” Jughead slipped by her and pressed the button on his stereo to turn off the spine tingling music.

The girl glanced around the room in skepticism. “But how?” she whispered. Jughead watched her gaze as it traveled around him, finally settling on the coffee table where he’d left the bracelet and the book from the night before. “You found my bracelet!” she exclaimed.

Jughead stood rooted to the spot, frozen in fear. “T-that’s your br-bracelet? Y-you’re E. C.?” he choked out as the girl scampered over to the table and sliding the piece of jewelry rightfully onto her wrist.

“Yes. Elizabeth Cooper is my full name. I can’t believe you found this! I can’t believe you can see me!” Her eyes were as wide as a deer in headlights.

Jughead scratched the top of his head in worry and turned his back on the girl, Elizabeth, heading for the kitchen. “I need to eat something,” he said to himself. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

He pilfered around in the kitchen, grabbing the makings for a bowl of cereal. He poured the milk into his Coco Puffs and waited as the milk turned from regular to chocolatey within seconds. Just as he took the first bite he heard her silky voice from behind him. “What’s a Coco Puff?”

The spoon fell with a clatter back into the bowl, haphazardly spilling milk onto the table. “Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that!” Jughead warned her, spinning around so fast in his chair his head was dizzy. “Why are you here? How are you here?”

Elizabeth looked to the chair beside him and nodded to it, silently asking for his approval to sit down. Jughead lifted his hand in a gesture as if to say yes while nodding his head. There, Elizabeth slid into the seat and leaned her elbow on the table, watching Jughead with pure adoration on her face. “I think that somehow when you found my bracelet, that it gave you the ability to see me.” She moved to clasp her hands together on the table, now staring at the wall. “No one else has ever noticed me before now.”

Jughead took another bite of cereal and wiped at the milk that seeped from the corner of his lips. He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway. “And why is it that no one can see you, Elizabeth?”

Glancing away from the wall, she turned her head to meet his gaze. For the first time really looking at her, Jughead noticed that her eyes were a deep cerulean blue – his favorite crayon color. And her lips looked so soft - like little pink rose petals. Shaking the thoughts of her beauty from his mind, Jughead waited for her to answer, taking another bite as she paused.

“What’s your name?” She asked instead, throwing him off guard.

“J-Jughead.” He replied between chews.

A sickly sweet giggle escaped those rose petal lips. “Well you see Jughead, nobody can see me because I’m dead.”

Elizabeth spoke of her death the way a normal person talked about their day or the weather outside. As if it wasn’t abnormal for her to be dead, or to be dancing around a stranger’s home to a song Jughead figured was as dead as the girl sitting beside him.

He continued to chew, letting the chocolate melt on the tip of his tongue as he pondered about what to say next. “Well, you’ve found your bracelet. You can go now.” He grabbed the bowl between his hands and lifted the rim to his lips to drink the milk that remained. Elizabeth watched in awe, a little grossed out but fairly impressed.

“No, I can’t.” Her voice was so firm it rattled Jughead to his core.

“Yes you can.” Jughead stood up and placed the bowl in the sink, running the water to rinse it out. “The door is right there.” He pointed to the door that was still chain locked and dead bolted the way he left it the night before. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

Elizabeth got to her feet and walked over to stand in front of Jughead, forcing him back against the counter top. “You don’t understand. You found my bracelet for a reason. You have to help me!”

Jughead pushed past her and made his way into the living room and down the hall, wondering how for a ghost she could be so… so solid. He turned into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, making sure to click the lock as well. He could sense Elizabeth’s presence on the other side of the door. “Go away Cooper, I’m not helping you.” Jughead said, unzipping his pants, ready to take a leak.

“B-but if you don’t, I’ll never pass on. And I need to pass on. Everybody’s waiting for me.” Elizabeth cried from the other side of the door. Jughead heard the handled quake as she tried to force her way in.

“You’ve got the wrong guy, Lizzie. Find someone else to help you.” Jughead flushed the toilet and began to wash his hands and brush his teeth. In the mirror he stilled mid-brush as saw Elizabeth’s form melt through the doorway out of his peripherals. What worried him more was that she had no reflection in the mirror. “What the fuck.”

“Don’t call me Lizzie. If Elizabeth is too much for you to handle, call me Betty instead.” She leaned against the counter to his side, unfazed by Jughead’s shock at her ability to travel through walls and doors. “No one else can help me Jug, there’s only you.”

With his tooth brush dangerously dangling from the side of his mouth Jughead spoke. “How did you do that!?”

“I’m a ghost, duh.” She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side. “Please help me Jughead. The sooner you help me, the sooner I can leave this place and go where I’m meant to be.”

After regaining control of his breath, Jughead finished brushing his teeth and gargling mouth wash before deciding to speak again. Reaching for the towel hanging besides the mirror, he wiped his mouth and stared point blank at Betty’s pouty lips and puppy eyes. “You promise if I help you, that you’ll leave? And that you won’t walk through doors and shit anymore? Because that’s fucking terrifying.” He said.

Betty clapped her hands and squealed in delight. “I promise!” She lunged at Jughead and forced him into a hug, somehow solid once more. Hugging her was like hugging a bag of ice, and Jughead kept his arms stock straight as his sides. “You won’t regret this Jughead. I pinky promise.”

Once Betty let go of him, Jughead was able to feel the heat resurface to the areas where Betty touched him. Why was it that everything strange that happened in the world, had to happen to him?


	2. Chapter 2

Jughead forced Betty out of the bathroom so he could shower and brood with his thoughts on his own. After his usual routine of washing himself, Jughead stood under the scalding water and wondered if maybe whole morning was just a dream. Maybe he was still asleep in his bed, tossing and turning from these strange series of events. And maybe the bracelet and the book – those were part of the dream too. Maybe none of it was real and when he woke he’d be just plain Jughead again, not Jughead the ghost whisperer.

“This isn’t a dream, Jughead.”

“Wha-“ Turning too fast, Jughead slipped on the bathtub floor, grabbing the curtains to spare his fall but that didn’t help. “Turn the water off! TURN OFF THE WATER!” Jughead laid tangled in a crumpled heap in the bathtub, furious about the fact that she’d been spying on him. He watched as the knobs rotated by themselves towards the off position, the shower head now only dripping from the remains. “Show yourself, Betty.”

Before him she emerged, gracefully sitting on the edge of his bathtub. “Hi there.” She spoke softly, playing with the ends of her ponytail.

“Don’t ‘hi there’ me. You didn’t tell me you could make yourself invisible when you wanted! Or that you could read minds. I didn’t sign up for any of this.”

Betty threw her head back in laughter. “I wasn’t reading your mind Jughead, you were talking to yourself in here. Supernatural and magical are two completely different things.” She explained matter-of-factly, standing up and straightening out her skirt as she did. “Now if I were you, I’d untangle yourself from those curtains and dry off!” Betty tossed him a towel hanging from the rack on the wall. It landed on his head with a dull thud.

“Will you get out of here?” Jughead grumbled, struggling to stand and tearing the shower curtain from his slick body. Deciding it best to just let it lay there, Jughead wrapped the towel around his waist and used his hand to wipe the mirror clear of fog. He shook his head, knowing fully well that combing through his hair was utterly useless. His dark locks had a mind of their own sometimes.

Once he was dressed and refreshed Jughead plopped down in front of the TV and began to flip through the channels, landing on an old rerun of _Home Improvement_. Amused Betty sat on the floor right in front of the TV, lifting her hand up to touch the screen and causing the picture to distort. “Look at the colors! So bright and vivid!”

Jughead stared at the back of her head in blatant curiosity. “Betty, in what year did you die?”

Betty spun around on her bottom and tucked her legs beneath her to face him. “1944.”

Jughead looked from Betty to the book beside him on the table, and back again. “Do you remember the day?” He asked inquisitively.

“October 30th.” She said softly, fumbling her thumbs in her lap. “That’s actually what I need your help with Jug.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, what’s that?” He silently cursed himself, just realizing he never even knew what he promised to help her with. How stupid, making such an empty promise like that. He was smarter than that.

Betty’s voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know how – or why I died.” She paused, finding the plush carpet rather interesting. “The last thing I remember I was sitting in a booth at Pop’s. I had just heard of the news that my sweetheart Archibald, had died in the war overseas. Everything after that I don’t remember. It’s as if I was no longer myself and that I’d – that I’d become someone else entirely.”

Jughead tapped his finger to his chin, mulling over just exactly what Betty was trying to say. He supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to help her out. There had to be an old article somewhere in the library about Betty’s death. Maybe he’d even be able to come across her obituary. He just had to look. “I’ll help you Betty. But right now, I’ve gotta get to work.”

Jughead shut off the TV and grabbed his jacket from where he’d left it the night before, regretting the fact he hadn’t put it in the dryer. It was still damp. “Work? Where do you work? May I come with you?” Betty pleaded.

From the linen closet Jughead grabbed a second jean jacket and tossed it on over his shoulders. “No I can’t have you wreaking havoc all over town.” He squished his feet into his shoes and propped his beanie on his head just the way he did every day.

“You do realize I’ve been lurking around undetected all these years, right? Just because you can see me, doesn’t mean that anyone else will. How do you think I ended up here in the first place?” Betty asked, getting to her feet and shadowing Jughead as he walked over to the door.

“I don’t know, but I do know one thing. You’re not coming with me.” He turned and she was right there on his heels, staring up at him with an annoyed glint in her eyes.

“Then what am I supposed to do all day?” She hoffed, stepping back and sitting at the kitchen table dismayed.

“Play dead.” Jughead said, unlocking the door and turning the handle. “Later Betts.” And he shut the door on her without another word.

◊◊◊

Jughead began his work day finishing what he started last night; putting away all the returned books from the day before. While he worked he let his mind fade, wondering how of all people, Betty’s bracelet and book had fallen into his unlikely hands. He made a mental note to remind himself to ask Betty about it later when he saw her. Something wasn’t right about this, and Jughead was beginning to worry that agreeing to help Betty wasn’t in his best interest.

After he finished the book returns he spent the rest of the day behind the counter, helping Mr. Weatherby assist the community with their booking needs. He offered advice to teenagers about the best books to write reports on and assisted the housewives of Riverdale with their weekly book club. He even led after school story time to the kindergarteners from Riverdale Elementary in their reading of _The Little Old Lady Who Was Not Afraid of Anything_. In the haste of another busy day he almost forgot about Betty, who he thought was waiting for him at home.

Around seven o’clock everything started to dwindle down. The library was nearly empty and Mr. Weatherby was due to leave at any moment in order to make it to his bowling league on time. With all the books from the day returned to their rightful places, Jughead perused the old newspaper clippings section, where Riverdale kept a copy of every Riverdale Register article dating back to the Great Depression.

Once Weatherby was gone, Jughead took a closer look at any articles released surrounding the weeks of Betty’s death. Just when he noticed her name printed in black and white, he heard the bell at the front desk chime, signaling that someone was waiting to check out.

“I’ll be there in a second!” Jughead called over his shoulder. He left the album out on the table and made his way back to the front of the library, cringing every time he heard the bell chirp. “I said I’m coming!” he yelled, reaching the desk and finding, to his dismay, Betty standing there waiting for him.

“Hiya Jughead.” Betty said, hopping up onto the front desk, crossing her ankles and swinging her feet back and forth like a pendulum. “Any luck on the research?”

Jughead groaned and scratched at the back of his neck in annoyance. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait back at the apartment.”

“I did. But I got bored.” She said, twirling her hair between her fingers, curling the blonde locks from knuckle to knuckle.

Jughead stood in front of her with his arms across his chest. “Well too bad, you have to go back. I’ve only got about an hour or two left here, and I don’t need you bothering me while I’m trying to help you.”

“Geepers Jughead, are you always this insufferable?”

With a click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and meticulous raise of his eyebrows Jughead replied, “Yeah, I am.”

Betty hopped off the counter and pushed by him. “If I had known this, I never would’ve left the book here for you to find in the first place!”

Well that answered that question he’d been wondering about earlier in the day. “I knew it! Why me Betty? How long have you been watching me now? A day? A week? How long Elizabeth?” He was seething as he said her name. Jughead felt a whole new level of violated. He felt personally attacked. Had she been following him around, maybe even watching him when he slept?

Betty took a step back, as if he’d slapped her across the face with his words. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be dead. To be this void of a spirit that just wanders through town, never able to leave. You are the first person I’ve interacted with in 50 years. And I chose you. I remember the first time I saw you in that ridiculous crown hat of yours, sitting alone at Pop’s reading a book while you nursed a soda. You looked so lost Jughead and so alone. And I just thought that maybe you would somehow be able to help me. Because just like me you were lonely. You have no friends Jughead. You sit home alone on your days off and watch old sitcom reruns or listen to your awful music, if you can even call it that. Besides for the people that step foot into this library and Pop’s you have no one. As of right now, I’m probably the closest thing you have to a friend.”

Jughead didn’t want to let her words affect him the way she intended them to, but she was right. He was all alone. And here he was talking to a ghost. She may as well have called him crazy too, maybe even psychopathic. But if there was anything she’d just said that he wasn’t, it was her friend.

“So you targeted me because you think I’m lonely, just like you? Newsflash Betty, everybody’s lonely. In this twisted world of ours there is no such thing as normal or happy. You’re born, you live and you die. You should stop feeling so sorry for yourself, you’re lucky you got out when you did.” Jughead was fuming. He stalked past her and headed back towards the editorials. The sooner he solved the mystery of her death, the sooner she’d get the hell out of his life.

Of course she followed him back there. He couldn’t hear her footsteps because she didn’t have any, but he knew she was behind him, waiting to strike back with another insult.

He sat down at the table and relocated the clipping he’d been looking at previously. He heard the chair across from him scuff against the floor as she moved it to sit down. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah well, soon this will all be over, and we won’t have to deal with each other anymore, alright?”

Betty nodded silently and watched him as he read. But nothing in the newspaper was making any sense to him. “They say you disappeared. The last day you were spotted before they found your body was October 22nd. There are interviews in here from your parents and your sister Polly. No one knew where you vanished to. And when they found your body in the woods near Sweet Water River, there was no sign or distinction of torture; just a single bullet wound straight through your chest.”

He looked up. Betty had untucked her sweater from her skirt and lifted it up. Just inside her left breast was a hole about the size of a silver dime. “Geepers. I never noticed that before now.”

Jughead tried not stare and did a terrible job at hiding it. Despite the hole in her chest, he got lost roving his eyes over the contours of her body. Betty was a like one of those American Girl dolls his sister Jelly Bean had owned growing up. She had porcelain skin and eyes too blue to be real. How someone could have killed this innocent, and rather annoying girl boggled his mind to no end.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “but how does one not realize they have a literal hole in their body?”

Betty let her shirt fall and grabbed his hand. One moment she was there, solid as ice and the next she was invisible; all he could feel was a draft on his palm, as though he were outside in the middle of winter without any gloves on. “Can you feel that?” Betty asked, reappearing once more. “Can you feel my hand in yours?”

“Not when you’re invisible no, but when you’re here the way you are now I can. Why, can’t you feel me?”

Betty shook her head. “I can’t feel anything Jughead. Remember – I’m dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for comments so far. I'm really enjoying this story and all I want to do is work on writing it. Unfortunately I don't know when the next update will happen. I'm assuming tomorrow or maybe later this week. Please let me know what you think and leave and comment or kudos if you like it!


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